All the Little Lies

They didn’t speak for a long while. Eve told herself nothing had really changed. She’d had a wonderful childhood; couldn’t have chosen better parents. But why, oh why, hadn’t they told her the truth? ‘What about the note? Did you find it?’

Jill looked at her watch. She was always busy. If she wasn’t helping David in the gallery, she was involved with various local groups and charities. She began rooting in her bag for her car keys. ‘I’m sorry, no, but I’ll search for it tonight.’

‘What did it say about how she died?’

‘Just that there was a fire.’ The zip on her handbag seemed to be giving her trouble.

Eve took a breath. ‘Only I read that there were suggestions she was depressed. Which might mean it was suicide. And then there was the comment about it being mysterious. What does that mean? That the fire might not have been accidental?’

Jill stopped. She sat down again and gripped Eve’s hand. ‘Oh, don’t start thinking like that.’ Her voice quavered. ‘I promise I’ll find the note and we’ll answer as many of your questions as we can. But, darling, please concentrate on yourself and the baby for the moment. It’s all in the past. Your health is the most important thing. Alex said you were exhausted last night.’

‘You’ve spoken to him?’

‘Dad rang him when you were asleep. Just to check you were all right.’ Eve’s face must have shown what she was feeling because Jill touched her cheek. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I’ve said something wrong.’

Eve tried to smile. ‘No, it’s fine.’

But it wasn’t fine. Alex hadn’t mentioned the call, and she didn’t like the idea of them all discussing her behind her back. She followed Jill to the door and after they’d hugged she went into the front room, standing away from the window so she couldn’t be seen, and watched her mother heading along the street to her car.

At the car door Jill turned to stare back at the house, her knuckles pressed against her lips. And the chill that had settled in Eve’s stomach turned to ice.

Stella

Houghton’s was closed, but Ben let them in through a side door. David appeared and helped take the pictures inside. He leaned one against the reception desk and spread the others out along the pale wall. For a few silent minutes he stood, arms folded, looking at them. Then said one word, ‘Superb.’ And finally Stella was able to breathe.

‘Thank you,’ was all she could say, and it seemed to make David aware of her for the first time.

He shook his head at her. ‘No, thank you, Stella. These are beautiful. Fresh, original and so full of life. Just what we need as the centrepiece of the exhibition.’

Ben had disappeared into the office and came back with a bottle of champagne and three glasses. Stella stood in a daze as he popped the cork and poured the foaming wine into her glass. They clinked and Ben and David both kissed her on the cheek.

David raised his glass to her. ‘Here’s to our new star.’ He laughed. ‘I love the signature by the way.’

Stella grinned, too shocked to say anything. Her nan had always called her a little star and that’s why she used the shooting star as her signature. Ben had obviously not noticed it because he bent down to study the bottom of one of the pictures. ‘Ha!’ His laugh was loud in the big empty space. ‘A star for a star. Very clever. And I predict you will soon be stellar, Stella.’ Another booming laugh.

Stella glanced at David, not sure why she felt embarrassed, but he just swallowed the last of his champagne and said, ‘Well, I must get home, lots to do tomorrow. It’s times like this when I wonder if we were right to move down to the coast.’

Ben laughed and slapped his back as he walked away. ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you,’ but David gave a cheery wave.

Stella finished her wine, coughing slightly because it was so bubbly, and Ben went to fill her glass again. ‘Thank you, but I’d better get away too. I’m going out tonight.’ It wasn’t true, but she knew she wouldn’t feel comfortable alone in this big space with him. Silly really because he could obviously have his choice of women, so would hardly be bothered with an ordinary girl like her.

‘I dragged you over here, so you must let me take you back. Anyway I want to talk to Maggie.’ He rubbed her shoulder. ‘Think I annoyed her this afternoon.’

Stella had been so nervous on the way that she hadn’t noticed how fast he drove, but in the car going back he obviously guessed she was worried and put his hand on her knee.

‘Relax, it’s quite safe.’ She must have tensed because he gave her a little pat and said, ‘I’ll slow down.’

He began talking about her work. Full of enthusiasm. ‘I’ve never seen David so excited. We see a big future for you, Stella. And we want to feature your picture on the cover of the catalogue.’

It was all so amazing she just sat staring out of the window seeing nothing but a blur. Finally she realized he was waiting for her to say something and she blurted out, ‘Which picture?’ flushing because that sounded stupid.

Another of his loud laughs, making her feel idiotic again. ‘No, I mean your photograph. You’ll be the perfect poster girl.’ Another pat to her thigh. ‘I’ll be honest with you, we were going to use Maggie, but you’re much the better artist.’

His large hand was still on her knee as they drew up outside the house and it was impossible to move without seeming rude. Still tongue-tied she could only manage a strangled, ‘Thank you.’ She put her hand on the door.

‘And of course …’ he gave her thigh a little squeeze as he opened his own door, ‘you just about beat Maggie in the looks stakes, too.’

Before she could get out he was round her side taking her hand to help her. She moved quickly away, planning to run straight up to her room with the excuse that she had to change for her imaginary night out.

But as she reached the gate he said, ‘On second thought, I won’t come in just now. Let her ladyship cool down.’

Then, before she could move, his hand was behind her head and he was kissing her hard on the lips. It only lasted a second then he turned away, heading back to the car as if nothing had happened.

In the driver’s seat he rolled down the window and said, ‘We need to do those photos ASAP. So I’ll collect you in the morning and take you to the studio. Eight sharp.’ That loud laugh again, echoing down the quiet evening street.

When he roared away Stella stood one hand still on the gate the other pressed to her lips. She was almost afraid to let go of the gate because her legs felt like jelly. What had just happened? And was it really true that her work was set to be a success? She couldn’t think and told herself the only thing to do about that kiss was to pretend it had never happened.

But as she gave herself a little shake and opened the gate, she realized the curtain in Maggie’s bedroom was pulled back and Maggie, her face a frozen white mask, was standing there staring down at her.

Eve

When Alex got home Eve was checking the cod roasting in the oven. It took her a while to straighten up nowadays and Alex laughed and came behind her to haul her upright. Then he lifted her hair and kissed the back of her neck. ‘Sorry I’m late. They cancelled my usual train and the next one was a packed.’ He opened the fridge and poured himself some milk, holding up the carton. ‘Want some?’

She shook her head determined to get it out right away. ‘You didn’t tell me about Dad’s call last night.’

He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Oh yes, I completely forgot in the rush this morning. He only wanted to check you were all right. I told him you were asleep and that was it.’

She wanted to say that she didn’t like them discussing her as if she was a child who needed looking after, but the way she was feeling she knew it was likely to turn into an argument. Besides she had something more important to tell him.

It was difficult, but she forced herself to wait until they were eating. ‘I’ve decided to go to Newcastle this week, to see that exhibition.’

Alex swallowed a mouthful of potato and took a drink of water. ‘The train tickets will cost a fortune this late, if we can even get any, and I have work commitments.’

‘You don’t have to come and I was planning to drive.’

He put down his fork. ‘You’re joking. You shouldn’t be driving or travelling distances. Certainly not on your own. You can access the pictures and all the information you need online.’

He reached out for her, but she crossed her arms. She’d been prepared for this. ‘I have to see them as they really are, and I want to talk to someone at the Baltic about this collector. It could be someone who knew my mother. Someone who might know more about the circumstances of her death.’

Alex wiped his mouth. She’d obviously spoiled his appetite. ‘If The Guardian couldn’t get that information out of the gallery you’re hardly likely to.’

‘I’ll tell them I’m her daughter.’ Why was she feeling like a naughty child? She felt tears gather in her eyes and a pain stab inside her throat. Was his support too much to ask for? She ripped off a piece of kitchen roll and headed for the door pretending to blow her nose rather than wipe her eyes. Turning back to him she said, ‘Well I’m going and that’s it.’ She just managed to stop herself from adding, ‘So there.’

It was pathetic and she knew it, but she ran upstairs and locked herself in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet her arms wrapped round herself. Damn, damn, damn. Damn her mum and dad, damn Alex and damn Stella Carr. This ought to be the happiest time in her life, when she should be thinking about the future not the past. But she knew she wouldn’t be able to rest until she found out all she could about her birth mother.

And about how she died.

CHAPTER FOUR

Eve

It was a long way to Newcastle and Eve would normally have insisted on at least sharing the driving, but this time she slept for much of the journey.

Alex had come upstairs while she sat miserably in the bathroom and tapped on the door.

‘Eve, I’m so sorry. If it’s that important to you, I’ll cancel my appointments and come with you. Let’s book a hotel for a couple of nights and I’ll get in touch with the Baltic. As an art historian I should at least be able to arrange for us to meet a curator.’

He nudged her as they approached the city. It was already dark and her eyes were dazzled by the lights. ‘We’re nearly there. Our hotel is just across the river from the Baltic.’

She sat up and shook her head. They were approaching a steel bridge flanked by two others. On the right she recognized the Tyne Bridge. The river below them was a dark mirror gleaming with reflections of city lights.

When they stopped outside their hotel Eve looked across the water. The gallery was a great chunk of a building. Over the front the massive words, BALTIC FLOUR MILLS, proclaimed its industrial past, but brightly lit glass sections at the top and sides relieved its bulk.

Eve stared hard at it almost imagining she could see the pictures inside. She’d hoped to have a look round as soon as they arrived, but the exhibition spaces must be closed by now. Alex had got them an appointment with one of the curators next morning.

Eve was still cloudy from sleep and struggled to listen as he carried on talking and pointing. ‘That’s the Millennium Bridge leading over to the Baltic. They call it the Blinking Eye.’

Eve could see how it had got its name. Hanging low over the water it really did look like the slender outline of the upper and lower lids of a wide open eye. Its two semicircles of light, the top lid lit up in blue and purple and the lower a curve of brilliant white, shone in the black glass of the river.

She smiled at Alex. ‘You sound like a city guide.’ When he looked down and she noticed his knuckles turn white on the wheel she realized her mistake, but said nothing. Alex had done his PhD at Newcastle University and it was where he had met, married and lived with his first wife, Beth. Where their children were born. Where their marriage fell apart before Beth took the children to Australia and broke contact.

‘It’s changed quite a bit since I was here,’ was all he said as he pulled into the hotel car park and turned off the engine.

He took her hand to help her out and must have realized how wobbly she was because he pulled her close. She rested her head on his chest, wanting suddenly to cry. He was very warm and held her tightly, whispering, ‘Was the journey all right? I know you hate being a passenger. And I’m not a patch on you for driving. Had a sticky moment on the M25 when that bloody Audi cut me up.’

She remembered jolting awake to see a silver flash speeding away from them and hearing Alex curse, but she had fallen asleep right after. Now she saw how anxious he must have been all these hours and one tear spilled onto her cheek. She wiped it away. ‘You did brilliantly.’

He kissed her gently on the mouth and for the first time in weeks she felt a surge of desire.

‘Let’s check in,’ she said.

When they got to their room she had to dash to the toilet. Nowadays she felt as if her bladder had shrunk to nothing. She came out to see Alex standing by the window looking over the river. It was a lovely view, but she pulled off her shoes and trousers and lay on the bed looking at him. He was tall and slim, and although he was twenty years older than her, he didn’t look it. And there was something about his back, with his T-shirt all crumpled from the long drive, that was so vulnerable it made her want to cry again. He usually seemed so calm and composed that she still sometimes thought of him as a professor and herself as a student, but today she felt almost maternal. And guilty. She had been completely wrapped up in wanting to find out about Stella Carr and hadn’t thought how coming here would stir up memories of his first marriage.

Without turning he said, ‘Shall I make you some coffee?’

‘I don’t want anything but you right now.’

He came to her and they kissed and he held her very tightly. When he moved back to look at her, his eyes shone almost gold in the light from the bedside lamp. They made love then, slowly and in silence and when it was over they lay close together, their breath coming in matching rhythms.

The next thing she was aware of was Alex brushing her hair away from her face, and she realized he was dressed and that she had slept.

‘I can’t face going out to eat, can you?’ he said. ‘Room service is a bit pricey, but I could get a takeaway and sneak it in if you like.’

Eve was too sleepy to be hungry, but knew she should eat. ‘A spicy pizza would be nice and some cold juice.’

He jumped up. ‘Just what I fancy, but with a couple of beers instead of the juice.’

Alex put the TV on for her, but she grabbed the book she was reading from her bag.

It wasn’t until she heard the music for the television news that she realized how long he’d been gone. A few minutes later he came in with a pizza box and a carrier bag. His hair was damp.

‘There was a queue, then it started pouring with rain and I had to wait in a doorway.’ He rubbed a hand over his face.

She pulled herself up straight in the bed. ‘Alex, what’s wrong.’

He had turned to the little table by the window and was unpacking the bag. ‘Oh, nothing, except some boy racer nearly knocked me into the river. Just managed to jump out of his way and, more importantly, to save the food.’ He faced her with a smile. ‘No harm done. Now let’s eat before you fall asleep again.’

Stella

The photo session turned out all right in the end. After Ben Houghton drove away and Stella saw Maggie staring down at her, she raced inside and up the stairs, but Maggie was in the bathroom. Stella tapped on the door.

‘Maggie, are you all right?’ There was no answer, so she went to the kitchen and made herself some beans on toast.

When the phone in the hall rang Maggie hurtled down wrapped in a towel. She leaned over and closed the kitchen door so that Stella couldn’t hear what she was saying. Minutes later she was slamming out the front door.

Stella had been awake for hours when she heard a hoot from outside. As she opened the front door she felt a lurch of anxiety. What if Ben did something while they were alone in the car? But Maggie, looking straight ahead, was in the passenger seat.

Stella sat in the back of the car watching Maggie nuzzle at Ben as he drove with one hand on her knee. He looked back and winked at Stella, which made her face go red.

What he had said to her yesterday – what he had done – had obviously just been to make Maggie jealous. And it turned out that the photo session was for all the artists. The four others were men. Stella knew one of them, Baz, from college and the rest were all a similar age to her and Maggie. The photographer wasn’t much older and he encouraged everyone to clown around as he took lots of snaps very quickly.

A few paintings had already been hung, and he was photographing one of the men in front of his work, when Maggie came and sat next to Stella on a black sofa.

‘It’s all right,’ she said, ‘I’ve got over it, so no need to avoid me. I know Ben only kissed you to annoy me.’ She held up her wrist to show Stella a lovely gold bracelet he’d given her. The phone call the night before had been from him and he’d come back to take Maggie to dinner and a hotel for the night. ‘We’ve been making plans,’ she said with a secret smile.

Before Stella could ask anymore David Ballantyne arrived with sandwiches and bottles of beer, and they all went out into the courtyard. One of the men, James Stone, who had dark floppy hair and a silver earring, came to sit on the stone bench next to Stella. She liked him and as they ate and drank in the sunshine she felt as happy as she had ever been. A thought came into her head. This is when my real life begins.

When he stood to leave James nudged Stella with his knee. ‘Coming?’ But Maggie called out. ‘Don’t go, I need to talk to you.’ So James waved and said, ‘See you around then.’

Stella sighed and followed Maggie back into the gallery. She whispered, ‘Don’t you want to be alone with Ben?’

Maggie laughed. ‘And miss the best bit. Look.’ She was holding a small bag and pulled out the two dresses they had worn to the preview. ‘Ben wanted a photo of me in something a bit more glamorous and we thought it might be nice to have one of the two of us together.’

When they’d changed, the photographer asked them to come back into the courtyard where he took several pictures. Then Ben appeared and said, ‘Now a few of Maggie on her own, I think.’

Maggie was trying out various poses, some sexy, some sedate and some comical, and she and the photographer were soon laughing together, so Stella wandered back into the gallery. She was looking at a picture by James and was so absorbed that she gasped when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

It was David Ballantyne. ‘Sorry. I thought you heard me,’ he said. He gestured with his head and they moved over to a beautifully lit corner of the gallery where six canvases were leaning against the wall. Although only their backs were showing, Stella recognized them as hers.

‘What do you think?’ he said, and when she looked blank he smiled and added, ‘I mean how’s this corner for your work?’ He gestured towards the rest of the room. ‘It’s visible from pretty much everywhere and people will be drawn over as soon as they come in.’

It was difficult to speak. ‘It’s wonderful. The light …’ she couldn’t go on. There was a pain in her throat as she struggled not to cry at the thought of her pictures on display in such a beautiful spot.

‘You’ll be the star of the show. No doubt about that.’

All she could say was, ‘Thank you.’

He was looking away from her and fiddling with the frame of one of the canvases. ‘I want you to know I think you’re a rare talent and I’m very proud to have you in the exhibition.’

Stella was glad he left her then, muttering something about work and busy, because she had to move close to the wall to hide her tears. She was so thrilled that her heart seemed to throb. Was it possible to die of happiness?

She turned one of her pictures around. It was the first she’d done in London when she was feeling lost and homesick and was a fantasy version of the Tyne Bridge. She’d removed all the other bridges around it and painted it as if it was in the middle of jungle rather than in Newcastle. Was it really as good as David said?

‘Put that back the way you found it, young lady.’ Ben Houghton’s voice boomed out, and she automatically did as she was told. He clapped her on the back and gave his huge laugh. ‘Only joking, my darling. If anyone’s entitled to handle it, I’d say it’s you. Now will you step into my office for a moment?’ He smiled down at her, raising one eyebrow.

CHAPTER FIVE

Eve

Alex had emailed the Baltic to say he was researching a book and wanted to include some details about Stella Carr. He had kept it as vague as possible.

They arrived with an hour to spare. It was cold and drizzly but, despite the gloom outside, the gallery was full of light and space. When they left the glass elevator on the third floor, Alex wandered straight into the exhibition. Eve stood at the entrance reading the information on the partition.

The Baltic is especially glad to welcome the works of Stella Carr because she was born in Newcastle in 1966. The Tyne Bridge is clearly recognizable in one of her earliest paintings.

Nothing is known about her father, and her mother, Karen, died when Stella was only nine years old. From then on she lived with her grandmother. She attended Newcastle’s Bath Lane College of Art until she won a scholarship to St Martins in London.

Eve looked over towards Alex. So Stella was actually from Newcastle. Alex was a student here during the Eighties and later taught at the university. She wondered if anyone he knew from that time had ever come across Stella.

She read on:

The painting, Nana, shows Stella’s grandmother when she was in a nursing home suffering from dementia.

Stella’s only exhibition during her lifetime was at the Houghton Gallery in 1986. Five of her paintings were sold, but Stella refused to part with Nana. She moved to Italy the following year and was tragically killed when a fire destroyed her studio. Some of the paintings in our exhibition are from the original London show, but a number were produced during her final weeks in Italy. These have never been shown before. They survived because the studio was too small to store her finished works and they were kept in the main house.

So the studio was separate from the house. Surely that would have made it easier to escape from. She wondered what it was like. Needed to find out.

She walked into the exhibition space, her breath caught, and she couldn’t move. It was like being inside a kaleidoscope, not just because the colours were so vivid, but because she felt as if they were whirling around her as she tried, and failed, to focus on any single painting.

She walked to the glass case in the middle of the room where the catalogue for the Houghton exhibition was displayed. The photo of Stella that she’d seen on the Internet was on the front cover. A second copy of the catalogue was open at a two-page spread. On one side was Stella with another small and slender young woman. It was obviously the photograph that had inspired the painting of Maggie and Me that Eve had seen in the original article. They were wearing the green and blue dresses in what looked like a courtyard with white walls. The caption under the photograph read: